the best things in life are free
by sodium-amytal
Summary: Chandler attempts to bake Joey a cake for his birthday. Pure, unapologetic fluff.


_**(even though these drabbles are part of a "series," they don't necessarily have continuity with each other. they're basically stand-alone short-fics i've grouped together via the theme of being chandler/joey drabbles, haha. this one's supposed to take place in season 3, probably before 3x11 ((TOW Chandler Can't Remember Which Sister)).)**_

Tomorrow marks Joey's third birthday since he and Chandler have been dating. Last year, Chandler gave him a PlayStation (as well as ridiculously awesome sex, but it was difficult tearing Joey away from _Doom_ and getting him into the bedroom). The year before that, Chandler gave him a fancy gold watch (and also awesome sex). This year, he's fresh out of ideas.

It's not that Joey's hard to shop for, it's just...well, Joey's really hard to shop for. Everything that comes to mind are things Chandler usually gives him throughout the year: food, sex, Knicks and/or Rangers tickets. So giving Joey any of those on their own doesn't strike Chandler as "special" enough. And it's not like he's going to ask Joey what a good gift would be, because that defeats the entire idea of a surprise.

Monica stops by while Chandler's watching the Home Shopping Network. "Do you think Joey needs a set of knives that can cut through glass?" he ponders aloud.

"Honey, I really doubt Joey's gonna be mad at you if you don't get him something expensive this year," Monica says, sitting in the vacant recliner beside him. "C'mon, Chandler, he loves you. Everyone can see it: me, Rachel, Phoebe, Ross—even Mr. Heckles, and he's dead!"

Chandler nods in consideration. "You think I could get away with just putting a bow on myself and saying, 'Happy birthday, Joe! _I'm_ your present this year!'"

Monica purses her lips, trying not to laugh. "I don't think anyone could get away with that."

"Then I'm out of ideas." He flips the remote in his hand. "These knives are pretty cool, though. They're made out of military-grade steel!"

Monica shakes her head. "Why don't you try making him something? Everyone loves a home-made gift."

"Joey's the craftsman, remember?" Chandler gestures to the entertainment center in front of them.

"It doesn't have to be anything big. Just something small like a mix-tape or, I don't know, a cake—"

"A cake! I could do a cake!" Chandler looks over at her, seeking reassurance. "Right?"

Monica lifts an eyebrow. "Chandler, if you can't bake a cake I'm gonna have to ask you to turn in your 'functioning adult' badge."

He's up and moving toward the cupboard, rummaging through boxes and cans. "Cake mix, cake mix, why do we not have any cake mix?"

"I never got the feeling you and Joey were the baking type," Monica says, coming over to him and helping him look for ingredients.

"Well, hey, you can make cakes from scratch, right? That's a thing people do. What's in a cake, anyway? Flour, sugar...?" He grabs the bag of flour from the top shelf.

Monica gives him a skeptical look. "You really think you're up for that?"

Chandler rolls his eyes. "It's baking, Mon, not rocket science."

She ignores him, heading for the door. "I think I have a simple chocolate cake recipe in one of my cookbooks. Let me find it for you."

Chandler waits for her to return, casually picking a carton of eggs and the box of butter sticks out of the fridge, because he vaguely remembers those ingredients belonging in cakes. If he's wrong, whatever, Monica can yell at him.

Monica comes back two minutes later with a thick cookbook opened to the recipe in question. She's also carrying a bunch of ingredients underneath her free arm. "What do you think? This shouldn't be too hard."

Chandler skims over the directions. "'Melt butter in medium saucepan'? What am I, a chemist?"

Monica scoffs and unloads the ingredients she's carrying onto the kitchen counter. "It's not that hard, Chandler. Trust me. I'll help you."

He nods absently, still looking over the instructions. "Whoa, this cake has beer in it? Could this _be_ any more perfect?"

Monica helps him through the first few steps, getting the beer, butter, and cocoa mixed together until the phone rings. Chandler moves to answer it, but Monica stops him, picking up the receiver. "Bing-Tribbiani residence."

Chandler rolls his eyes and fights a smile. He'd argue that her phrasing makes it sound like he and Joey are married, but, really, he kind of likes the sound of it.

Monica gasps. "Oh my God! Rach, I'm so sorry! I got caught up helping Chandler with something and—" There's a pause that Chandler just _knows_ is Rachel chewing her out. "Give me ten minutes, okay?"

Chandler looks over at her. "Something wrong?"

"I was supposed to meet them at the movies, like, ten minutes ago," Monica says with a groan.

"What're you gonna see?"

"_Jerry Maguire._ Have you seen it?"

Chandler shakes his head, digs into his jeans' pocket with his free hand. "This should smooth things over," he says, handing her a twenty. "Phoebe likes Skittles, and Rachel likes her popcorn with extra butter."

Monica smiles at him, pocketing the bill. "Thanks." She glances at him stirring ingredients together. "You gonna be able to manage that?"

Chandler makes a "pffft" sound. "Please, I earned my 'functioning adult' badge. Go, go." He motions for her to leave, and Monica flashes him a quick smile before shutting the door behind her.

#

The first thing Joey notices when he stumbles into his apartment later that evening is how Chandler's standing in the kitchen, glaring at a chocolate cake like it's responsible for everything wrong in the world. Then he notices the disaster zone that is the kitchen; the fridge, the stove, the countertops, and even Chandler are covered with stray splatters of icing and batter. Monica might actually _die_ if she sees this.

Chandler turns at the sound of the door, rubbing the back of his neck. "H—hey, Joe." He frowns, brings his hand into view to see a glob of white icing smeared on it.

Joey chuckles and steps closer, and now he can see there's a smear of icing on Chandler's face, and, wow, that doesn't look dirty _at all_. "What're you doin', babe? Did you get in a fight?"

Chandler does that thing with his mouth that he only does when he's angry. "You should see the other guy."

Joey moves closer to examine the cake. It's sort of lop-sided, slanting to the left like it's melting. The icing is haphazardly spread over the top and some of the sides. There's a design in the middle made out of red M&M's that Joey can't quite decipher. "Is this him? 'Cause I think he won."

Chandler pouts, stares particularly hard at the floor for a moment. "How was the game?"

"Great! I would'a been home sooner, but on the way back Ross wanted to stop in this comedy club. It was okay, but all I could think was, 'man, this guy isn't even half as funny as my boyfriend.'"

The corner of Chandler's mouth twitches into what might be considered a smile.

"What's with the cake? Did you get hungry or somethin'?" Joey steps over to the bowl containing some left-over icing. He's surprised there's any left considering the mess. "You know you can just go buy cakes, right?" He looks around, and his gaze snags on the front door. "How'd you get icing on the door?"

"Monica let me borrow her electric mixer," Chandler grates out, like that answers everything.

"And she didn't help you?"

"She started to." Chandler's lower lip quivers like he's going to start crying. "I just wanted to do something nice for you," he says in an impossibly small voice.

Joey's mouth drops open in shock. "You did this for me?"

Chandler nods grimly. "For your birthday."

Joey feels his shoulders sag as all amusement drops out of him. "You... Really?"

Chandler nods again, his mouth an angry line. "I couldn't think of what to get you this year, and Monica suggested I make something..." He raises his head to look at Joey. "It's all her fault! She shouldn't have trusted me when I said I could do this myself!"

Joey chuckles, tugs Chandler closer so he can kiss his mouth. His lips are sweet with the aftertaste of icing. "I think you did fine."

Chandler scoffs and gestures to the kitchen. "Really? Look around, Joe. I think I got more icing on me and the fridge than I did on the cake!" He moves over to the poor, tilted cake to make his case. "The cake is _leaning_, Joey! Cakes should not lean! Unless they're an edible version of the Leaning Tower of Pisa!"

Joey grabs the wooden spoon from one of the mixing bowls and licks it. "Well, the icing tastes good. And so what if the cake looks silly?" He shrugs. "All that matters is how it tastes, right?" Chandler remains unresponsive, shrugging in a way that says nothing at all, so Joey grabs a fork from one of the drawers and breaks off a morsel of the cake. It's moist, rich, and delicious with just a hint of stout to it. "Hey, this ain't bad!" Joey exclaims, his mouth half-full.

Chandler heaves a monumental sigh. "Joe, c'mon, I'll get you a real one tomorrow—"

Joey shuts him up by portioning off another bite and shoving the fork into Chandler's mouth. Chandler's face is frowny at first before his expression softens into something resembling pleasant surprise. "Yeah, that's—that's not bad, actually."

"See?" Joey grins, takes another bite. "What's the M&M's supposed to be?"

"A heart," Chandler says, barely loud enough for Joey to hear, but he does, and he takes Chandler's face in his hands and kisses him hard, because this is the most ridiculous, sweetest thing anyone's ever done for him. He suckles at the corner of Chandler's mouth, licks the glob of icing off of his cheek.

"You didn't have to do anything special for me, Chandler," Joey says. "Every year, I get to share my birthday with the greatest boyfriend in the world. That's the best gift anyone could ever give me."

Chandler laughs. "Monica said that wouldn't work: me being your present."

"Maybe not for her." Joey gives him another quick kiss. "I guess we ought'a wait 'til tomorrow to eat the rest of the cake, huh?"

Chandler shakes his head, his gaze focused on something past Joey. "It _is_ tomorrow, see?" Joey turns to see that the neon-red numbers on the microwave display read 12:00. He grins and looks at Chandler. Chandler smiles, all joy and love, and kisses his mouth. "Happy birthday, Joey."


End file.
